The Nix
That started well. Fun. First person shooter (video game). Tenure track success but — author manque.
Here is what he loved: the way it felt setting the hook with that snap of his wrist; the feeling of the fish plunging to the bottom, all power and muscle and mystery; resting the rod on his hip and pulling so hard it’d leave a bruise; how he couldn’t see the fish until it shimmered just below the surface; then that moment when it finally emerged. Page 205.
That captures the spirit, in such a concise form.
Halfway through, the novel purposefully veers off into another dimension, and the careful construction of the narrative evident. Same tale, told by different sources on different timelines.
Personally, when a writer starts writing about writing, I get a little circumspect because that can quickly devolve into meandering navel-gazing, wool-gathering, and self–aggrandizement. It’s a point where I’m over-critical.
The title — as near as I can surmise — derives from a Norwegian myth. There’s a house ghost, think “Bogeyman,” and that ghost haunts each family.
The tale — tales — are intricately interwoven with nimble leaps across time top help fulfill the plot’s end(s). While there was a serious effort to remain faithful to one era’s signatures, I had to wonder a little at revisionist history.
The novel didn’t pick up speed until two–thirds of the way through.
Instead, it’s way easier to ignore all data that doesn’t fit your preconceptions and believe all data that does. Page 631.
Observed truth.
Satisfying read, ultimately, part ghost story, part literary detective, part oral history. A bit of historical fiction — with a nod towards current politics, too.
The Nix: A novel
